Spring Fling
by Aussie73
Summary: Sam and Jack at a "Spring Fling" celebration. AU.


**Set a little after 'Seth' in an AU:**

"C'mon, Sammie; live a little! We just kicked some major Goa'uld ass – surely that's worth celebrating?"

_Sammie?_

Samantha Carter eyed the man warily. He was in an unusually expansive mood and was definitely feeling no pain. "I don't know …," she almost whined. "I'm not very good."

"Now _that_ I have to see," Jack O'Neill replied, his dark eyes twinkling at her. "Something that you're not good at?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"There's plenty I'm not that good at," Sam said, unable to resist the waggle. He was entirely too appealing in ways in which a man close to 50 should _not_ be appealing with his tall slim frame and unusual handsome features.

"Name 'em."

In casual civvies with a day's growth on his face and several empty beer glasses in front of him and he was still giving her orders?

Then he smiled. "Please?"

_Ohhh, he's so cute_, her squishy girly brain squished.

_No! Bad Sam! Not cute. CO stands for Commanding Officer, not CUTE Officer! Got that?_

_Yeah, right. Anyways; you're not his 2IC anymore_, Squishy Girly Brain reminded her.

"Well … I'm a terrible cook, for a start," Sam said. The only things she could make with any degree of success were cookies and she hadn't made those in years – not since her mom had died. "You name it; I can burn it. And I have terrible taste in men."

"The lunatic fringe – right. So … can't cook and poor taste in guys. I'm not askin' you to cook or to date me, at least not yet; I'm askin' you to dance." He got up and bowed slightly to her. "May I have this dance, Madame?"

Squishy Girly Brain nearly shorted out at the casual way he referred to a possible date request but Sam took control and got up, realizing that he wasn't going to let this go. She _was_ stubborn but he could out-stubborn her easily. "You may, good sir," she sighed, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

He took her hand, leading her to the small dance floor. Then he put his other hand on her waist and led her through the moves. "You're good," she said in surprise.

"I'm not bad," the Colonel replied casually. "Sara used to drag me out to this Spring Fling every chance she got."

Then he winced at the mention of his ex-wife and Sam squeezed his hand, trying to transmit what comfort she could. Sara O'Neill had died of cancer four years ago, leaving the Colonel with a young son to raise. Charlie was a sweet kid and took after the Colonel with his rambunctious ways – although he was nowhere near as sarcastic – and Sam had taken to the lad with a surprising ease. She'd never been that comfortable around kids; even her own nieces and nephews were mysterious beings to her.

"Sorry," the Colonel murmured. "I promised we were going to have fun tonight."

Sam sighed. "Don't apologize," she said. "You lost someone you loved – I still get upset when I think about my mom."

"Yeah," the Colonel acknowledged roughly. He sighed then shook his head. "Anyway! You doing anything tomorrow? If not, Charlie would love to see you."

Sam smiled at her CO. "You need a babysitter … right?"

"Ah …". The Colonel wore his cute little 'busted' expression. _No; not cute! Why can't you get it through your thick skull that Colonels shouldn't be cute?_ "Yeah," he admitted. "I have to get Charlie's birthday present and Mike's out of town, so …"

"That's fine, sir," Sam said. "Bring him round my house when you're ready – he can help me with my bike."

"He'll love you forever," the Colonel said, squeezing her waist, sending a delicious shiver through her. "Not that he isn't already smitten."

"Smitten?"

The Colonel shrugged. "He's 13 – the hormones are flowing." Then he looked down, coughed and removed his hand from her waist, putting it on her shoulder in a rather more decorous fashion.

"13." Sam nodded her head. "I remember when I was 13 – I had _the_ biggest crush on my AP Physics teacher."

"AP physics." The Colonel smirked. "Lemme guess – the rest of the class was at least three years older than you, right?"

"Right." Sam wasn't boasting – wasn't telling him anything he hadn't already known. He'd never been intimidated by her smarts, and she liked that. "And a bunch of 16 and 17 year olds didn't want anything to do with a flat-chested pre-puber." She shrugged her shoulders, no longer bothered by the memories. "So I spent all my evenings at home doing homework for extra credits."

"Brainiac," the Colonel snorted. "When I was 13, I sure as hell wasn't doin' my homework."

"When _you_ were 13, my older brother was only just born," Sam pointed out nastily.

The Colonel's eyes went wide. "Behind that angelic blonde mop and those big blue eyes, there's a mean and evil woman." Then he grinned. "And I like it."

"Thank you," Sam replied demurely.

* * *

Jack O'Neill smirked down at his former 2IC – not too far down, though. She was tall and he liked that. Her long-legged stride was perfectly capable of matching his ground-eating walk, even with the limp, and her mouth was at the perfect level for …

_And we're not goin' there!_, he instructed himself. Brilliant and beautiful, the feisty young Captain/Doctor had captured his male interest within minutes of their meeting but it had taken some time for him to actually like her. However, once she'd lost that feminist chip off her shoulder, he'd been able to relax more and throw some mildly flirtatious comments her way without worrying about a sexual harassment suit. Women in the military had it tough even in the 1990s and he had the feeling that she'd been the recipient of unwelcome advances before.

The song came to an end and changed to a modern upbeat thing with a pounding bass. Jack winced and dropped his hands from his former 2IC. "Sorry; I don't know this one," he said. Jesus; when had he gotten so damn _old_?

Sam smiled. "That's all right – it's not my style either," she said then indicated a table that had opened up. "You grab this table for us and the guys and I'll get the drinks in."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack barked, presenting a perfect salute and garnering some strange looks from the gaggle of young people on the dance floor.

Sam gave him the megawatt grin that he was sure could power up the 'gate. "God, you're such a …"

"A what?" Jack asked interestedly. While Sam had loosened up a lot over the last couple years, he was pretty sure that insulting the man who'd once been her CO was still beyond her.

Once been her CO. Jack scowled. No more. Sam had suffered some type of brain damage after that freakin' snake Jolinar had died – rather like a stroke. It had impaired her mobility and had meant that she had to be medically discharged. Fortunately, Hammond valued her brain too much to let her go entirely and had offered her the management of the science labs.

Sam blushed. "Never mind, sir," she replied. And still with the 'sir'. "Guinness for you?"

Jack thought about it. As it was, he wasn't going to be able to drive home and had already given his keys to the owner of this restaurant for safekeeping. He and Nick went back years and he knew his baby would be safe with the scrawny Italian. "I probably shouldn't," he said. He wasn't drunk yet but was definitely not sober. "Just a soda – and not that diet crap you like."

"Okay," Sam said then made her way to the bar, weaving her way expertly through the crowd, with only a slight drag to her damaged left leg. He watched as she blew off one of her more persistent admirers, casually twisting his arm up and between his shoulder blades when he patted her butt. Maybe he was weird, but he just loved watching Doctor Samantha Carter kick ass.

"She sure is something, isn't she?" Doctor Daniel Jackson said, sitting down opposite Jack and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Their new fourth … well, not _that_ new; it had been nearly a year … Major Reynolds had cried off tonight as his wife was close to term with their first child.

"Yeah," Jack replied fondly then distracted himself from his blush by dipping several chips into the salsa. "Hey, T," he got out around his chips.

"O'Neill," the final member of their team said solemnly. An honest-to-God alien. Well, part alien. The Jaffa were of human stock but had been modified by the snakes to house their young. The guy had a pouch – a _pouch_ for cryin' out loud! – in his stomach.

Sam came back over with a tray of drinks. "Hey, guys," she said then sat down. Next to Jack. Nudging him until he shifted over slightly. That was different. They'd been flirting more over the last few months but her small handicap had impacted on her personal confidence and she rarely initiated their flirtations.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel replied oh so articulately. That linguistics doctorate came in so damn handy.

"Doctor Carter," Teal'c said, dipping his head to her. A small smile played on his lips. "You look very nice tonight."

Sam looked down at herself, taking in the blue jeans and faded gray Academy tee that emphasized her tall curvy form. "It's just jeans and a tee," she objected.

Jack sighed. "Just accept the compliment, for cryin' out loud, woman," he grumbled. Was she really that modest or was she being disingenuous?

"Woman?" Sam raised her eyebrows and Jack cringed, waiting on the feminist diatribe. Then she smiled slightly. "It's a good thing I like you, sir," she added mildly.

"I like you too, Sam," Jack said. Maybe a little too much. Ever since her discharge from the Air Force, he'd toyed with the idea of asking her out, yet something held him back. It wasn't the age difference – he knew he was younger and fitter than most guys his age. But they were so different – night and day, light and dark. Sam had an innocence that all her experiences hadn't been able to entirely eradicate – Jack had lost what little remained of his during his stint at Club Med.

And she was so damn smart. Despite his act, he was no dummy, having Masters in English Literature and Engineering, but they didn't stack up to her double Doctorate. Not that she ever made him feel stupid – on the contrary, she seemed to appreciate his often odd ideas and never patronized him. He just sometimes had this feeling that she knew way more than she ever let on; that she was walking with the other infants when she wanted to run with the sprinters. The woman had built a DHD for cryin' out loud!

Okay. He wasn't intimidated by her smarts. Or by their age difference. They were no longer in the same chain of command and were both single. So what the hell was holding him back? Jack O'Neill had never been a coward except where the emotional stuff was concerned. Hell, Sara had proposed to _him_, not him to her! But no more. This time he was going for it. He was going to ask out Doctor Samantha Carter.

* * *

Sam smiled back at the Colonel … Jack. She could call him Jack, she decided. She was no longer in his chain of command, wasn't even military anymore. She could call a handsome man that she liked entirely too much by his first name. She handed him his soda, cursing when she spilled some. When she was tired she tended to drop things – _thank you SO much, Jolinar_ – and she'd pulled a couple of all-nighters recently on the Seth op.

"Sorry," she muttered and grabbed a napkin to clean off the table. She still hadn't gotten used to the little ways in which her body could betray her. Probably she never would. She was a hell of a lot better than she'd been a year ago, with only a limp and occasional clumsiness to show for her possession. Besides the nightmares and memories that weren't her own, of course. _Again; thank you, Jolinar!_

Jack didn't even appear to have noticed the spill, as he was engaged with Daniel in one of their childish round robins. Teal'c hadn't missed it, but he simply gave her a small smile and took his own drink instead of waiting for her to hand it over.

"Jack; you are such an ass," Daniel sighed.

"I still won," the older man replied. Sam sometimes wondered who out of he and Charlie influenced the other – Jack was strangely adolescent at times. "Carter! Ah… Sam; did I win?"

"Uh-uh." Sam shook her head. "You're not dragging me into your fight. For one thing; I wasn't listening. And for another; I don't really care." Then she smiled slightly to soften her words. "Shame on you, Daniel," she told the linguist. "Luring our revered Brigadier General into a 'did not' argument."

Brigadier General O'Neill. It sounded weird to Sam and to Jack too, by the look on his face. "Not for another month, Car … Sam," he said. "Let me enjoy being a lowly Colonel a little while longer, huh?"

Should a man his age be pouting? And should Sam really find it so damn cute? "Okay, but you're going to have to get used to it."

"I know," the Colonel said, still wearing a slight pout.

"Are you having doubts, sir … Jack?" Sam asked. "You shouldn't, you know. You'll be a great base CO."

Jack beamed at her, startling at her. He really did have a lovely smile. "Thanks, Sam," he said. "It's a big change, but it's time I did it." The smile became a little sadder. "I owe it to Charlie to stay safe and after what happened with Hathor …"

Sam nodded. He'd recently come within a mouse's fart of being implanted by Hathor – only the actions of an undercover Tok'ra agent had saved him. "Have you picked a fourth yet for SG-1?" she said, trying to redirect his thoughts. Being Goa'ulded was one of the Colonel's worst nightmares.

"Not yet," Jack replied. "I've been thinking, though, that we could use another science genius. Reynolds is pretty good, but he's taking command and needs to work his strengths. I was hoping you could recommend somebody."

"I'll have a think about it and let you know," Sam said. "Quite a few of my people have expressed interest in going offworld more often but not many are good with the weapons." Then she paused. "Actually, McKay would be my first choice. He's a brilliant astrophysicist and he's checked out with the 9-mil and P90." She frowned. "He's very snarky though."

Jack nodded his head. "I've met him – he's not exactly a team player, but I'm sure being on SG-1 will make him better. He'll get our overwhelming coolness through osmosis."

"Overwhelming coolness …" Sam raised her eyebrows, thinking of some of the more bizarre things that had happened to SG-1. Like the time Jack ate that cake and aged fifty years in days. Or when Sam had drunk that stuff on P3X-595 and flashed an entire village. "If you say so."

"I do!" Jack insisted. "I'll give McKay a try over the next few weeks – break him in a bit before letting him loose on Reynolds. Thanks, Sam."

He handed her the salsa and she dipped her chip into it then bit into it. "You're welcome," she said. "I hadn't realized I was so hungry."

Jack shoved over the bowl of chips and she grabbed several and scooped up the guacamole. "You gonna leave any for the rest of us?" he teased. "Or are we gonna have to roll you out of here later?"

Sam patted her tummy – now that she was no longer going offworld regularly, she had put on maybe ten pounds, but she'd needed to. "Are you saying I'm getting fat?" she asked, widening her eyes and putting on a hurt expression.

Oh, God. He was just too easy. His own eyes widened and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "No … of course not. You needed to put on some weight – your new curves are sweeeet … Ah, damn. Daniel; help me out here."

"No way!" Daniel raised his hands. "You're on your own, Jack."

"Thanks so much," Jack grumbled. He turned back to Sam. "I'm not getting out of this one gracefully, am I?" he sighed.

"No," Sam laughed. "That ship has pretty much sailed."

Jack sagged into his chair. "Evil, mean, sneaky, devious woman," he pronounced.

"A little redundant, don't you think?" Sam teased.

"For emphasis. There aren't _enough_ words to describe how evil and devious you, Doctor Carter, are."

"Thank you." Sam reached over and patted his hand. Over the last few months, she'd gotten to know Jack O'Neill as more than a sarcastic CO, and as they'd become more comfortable with the change she'd allowed more of her slightly twisted personality to show. Hey, she was Jacob Carter's daughter – she could do sneaky and evil with the best of 'em!

* * *

**Later that evening:**

Sam got out of the cab and cursed when her damn left leg folded. It had been a long time since it had done that, and she'd gotten out of the habit of taking her walking stick everywhere. "Shi … uh … damn," she complained. She'd been warned more than once to watch her language but she'd been military. The only reason she'd watched her language was to see just how colorful it could get, but now that she was civilian she had to tame her potty mouth.

"Up you get!" Jack exclaimed, putting a large hand under her elbow and hauling her upward with a surprising ease. Although she'd always been slim, at 5'9", she was no lightweight. He set her back on her feet but slid an arm around her waist. "You're really wiped, aren't you, Sam?" he added. "You shoulda said something – we could have done this another night."

"I don't expect the world to revolve around me just because my leg doesn't work sometimes," Sam said, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her waist. "Daniel's got that big presentation in a couple of days and you've got Charlie's birthday party to arrange – today was the best day."

"Yeah, but …," Jack grumbled. He steered her into her house and deposited her unceremoniously into her lounger. "I'll make you some tea and then you go to bed."

"Yes, _Dad_," Sam teased. With a sixteen-year age gap, he was technically old enough to be her father, but what she felt for him certainly wasn't familial. She cared for him, liked him, and respected him. And if she occasionally wanted to get horizontal with him, that was perfectly understandable. He was single and hot.

Jack frowned playfully at her. "You call me Dad one more time; I'll paddle that sweet little heinie of yours and not in a fun sexy way either."

Emboldened by the alcohol, Sam grabbed his hand. "_I_ have a sweet heinie? You ever taken a look in the mirror at your own butt?"

Much to her glee, he went red. It had been a long time since Sam had deliberately flirted with someone, and she'd forgotten how much she'd enjoyed it.

"You, Doctor Carter, are not only evil and sneaky – you're also a brat," he grumbled then leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips. "And I must be weird, because I like that."

"Yeah," Squishy Girly Brain sighed at the sweet all-too-short kiss. Then Sam coughed. "You _are_ weird," she added. "And _I_ must be weird too, because I like weird."

In the meantime, Squishy Girly Brain was chanting "Kiss him", "Kiss him", "Kiss him".

"Hey; we work at the SGC – we gotta be a little nuts, right?" Jack offered, heading to the kitchen.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, telling Squishy Girly Brain to put a lid on it. "Little gray Roswells beaming you up without a by-your-leave – that is pretty weird when you think about it."

"I still don't know why Thor had to pick on me for leading those negotiations," Jack called over his banging. He was only making tea – why would that involve his banging what sounded like every cupboard door she had? "I mean … I gotta be the least diplomatic guy ever."

"You're not that bad, Jack," Sam replied soothingly. He seemed to get on pretty well with the little Asgard and the Nox. He definitely had trouble with arrogance and pomposity, and the Tok'ra tended to rub him up the wrong way. But that was probably due to what one of their members had done to Sam.

"Yeah." Jack chuckled and continued his banging around. "Who was it that said 'Talk softly and carry a big stick'? Well, I'm more the 'scream loudly and shoot off a P90' guy."

Sam giggled. _Oh fine; Squishy Girly Brain comin' through! _She'd hoped Squishy had packed her bags and gone for the night.

Jack came back into the living room and handed her a cup of vanilla-scented tea then sat down next to her, nursing a mug of black coffee. She sipped at the tea. "It's good," she said. "I wouldn't have figured you for the herbal tea type."

"I'm not," Jack replied instantly, as if the very idea was an affront to his machismo. "But Sara …" Then he frowned.

"If you want to talk about her, I'm here for you," Sam said gently.

He patted her hand. "Thanks," he replied. "It's just … weird."

"What is?"

"Talking about my former wife with someone I can easily picture as my future wife." Then his eyes widened.

Right along with Sam's. She knew that he liked her, that he cared about her, but that was a very different thing to thinking of marriage. Colonel O'Neill was pretty much a closed book where his stronger emotions were concerned, but she knew from conversations they'd had over the last year that he didn't give his heart readily. "What?" she asked.

"Oh, crap …". Jack lurched to his feet. "I shouldn't have said anything. For cryin' out loud, I haven't even asked you on a date yet!" He put his mug down on the coffee table. "I … should go. I'm really sorry, Sam – I shouldn't have put you in that position."

"Jack." For once, Sam and Squishy Girly Brain were in complete agreement as Sam got up and grabbed his hand. "I like you too and … I'd like to explore the possibilities."

_Oh, REAL romantic!_, Squishy Girly Brain scorned.

_Shut up_, Sam commanded her squishy alter ego. Then she took hold of Jack's other hand, tilted her head up and caught his lips with hers.

"So; we're gonna do this? Give it a go?" Jack asked after the kiss ended.

"Yeah; looks like," Sam replied.

"Sweet."

Jack O'Neill had always been a man of few words but, Sam reflected as his lips sought out hers in a much more passionate kiss, words weren't always necessary.

* * *

**Six years later:**

Jack straightened his tie then went over to the beautiful blonde he loved. "May I have this dance, Madame?"

She smiled and got up, dipping a brief curtsy. "You may, good sir," she replied. She tucked her hand into his arm as they went over to the dance floor. They began dancing and Jack dipped his head to kiss her gently on the forehead. "I love you," he said.

Elizabeth O'Neill dimpled up at him. "Love you too, Daddy."


End file.
